AHR Interlude
by Meowzer
Summary: Why would anyone turn down the chance to have first thing in the morning sex with John Crichton?


Title: AHR Interlude  
  
Feedback: Send to eredwine@gmu.edu or meowzer@crosswinds.net. Please?  
  
Summary: Why would anyone give up the chance to have first thing in the morning sex with John Crichton?  
  
Rating: Strong PG-13  
  
Spoilers: AHR. Lots of AHR.  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine. If they were, do you really think BB would get any work done?  
  
Archiving: Feel free. Just drop me a line, so I can come visit.  
  
Author's Notes: I take no responsibility for the voices in my head.  
  
****  
  
When Aeryn woke, the room was dark. Crichton had pulled a chair over to the window, and was seated backwards on it, head resting on his arms. She wondered what he was doing here. After he'd kissed her, he had left, mumbling an apology.  
  
"Crichton?" she asked, sliding out of bed.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
She made her way over to him. "I thought you said you were going to sleep on the couch?" She glanced down from where she stood beside him. He had another bottle of beer clutched in his hand.  
  
"Couldn't sleep."  
  
"Oh." She let the silence stretch. Usually he would start babbling if she did that. He didn't. He took a sip of beer. The swallowing sound was far too loud for comfort. "Why are you here?" she finally ventured.  
  
"Wanted to look out the window," he replied. She looked down at him again, certain there was more. He started to peel the label off the bottle.  
  
"Why are you doing that?"  
  
"Old college superstition. If you get it off in one piece, you'll get lucky that night."  
  
Aeryn snorted. "I don't believe in luck." The label separated into two pieces, leaving half dangling from the bottle.  
  
"Neither do I." He ripped the second piece off the bottle, let both flutter to the floor.  
  
"So why are you peeling it?"  
  
He looked up at her. "I don't know."  
  
She sucked in a breath. He looked...empty. Nervousness, sadness she had expected. She'd dealt with adrenaline jitters, both her own and those of her comrades, but this she was completely unprepared to cope with.  
  
He looked down again, started to roll the bottle between his hands.  
  
"Sorry I woke you," he said. "You should go back to bed. No use both of us not getting enough sleep."  
  
She turned, looked at the disheveled covers. "Crichton..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Join me?" She didn't turn around, but she heard the rasp of his clothing as he turned to face her.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I asked you to join me." For a long microt, there was no sound, then the slight creak of the chair as he stood up.  
  
She moved back to the bed and lay down facing the door. The other side of the bed dipped as though he was kneeling on it. To her surprise, he pulled up the covers and pushed them in around her. The bed shifted again as he lay down. She lay there, wide-eyed, and waited. Nothing. She finally managed to turn her head, and found him lying on top of the covers, facing away from her. She didn't think he was asleep, but she couldn't tell.  
  
"Crichton?" she asked quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.  
  
"Uh-huh?" he mumbled back.  
  
"What was that?" she continued.  
  
"I was tucking you in," he said.  
  
Tucking her in. Hmm. "Is that some sort of custom?"  
  
"Kind of," he replied, but didn't elaborate.  
  
"What kind of custom?" she pressed.  
  
"Just forget it," he said. "It's not important."  
  
"Crichton." She turned all the way over.  
  
"I'm trying to sleep," he snapped, but without any energy behind it.  
  
"No you're not," she fired back.  
  
"Fine, I'm not," he shrugged.  
  
"Crichton," she said, scooting closer. "Look at me."  
  
He rolled over, and once again she was confronted with those empty eyes. She hadn't ever thought to see Crichton defeated, and to her surprise, it scared her more than the probability that she would be dead in a few arns.  
  
"What?" he asked. She didn't have an answer. She wished he'd crack a joke, make some profound observation, toss out one of those sayings she didn't understand, but he didn't. He started to roll over again. She put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. He ignored it and continued to turn.  
  
"Don't," she said, suddenly panicking. He stopped.  
  
"Don't what?" he replied, turning back to look at her.  
  
She found herself at a loss for words again. Instead she scooted closer and kissed him. He went completely rigid, but didn't respond otherwise, so she pressed herself even closer. When he still made no move to either draw her to him or push her away, she pulled her head back. He followed her slightly, barely even leaning as she moved away. His eyes were scrunched shut, and there wasn't quite enough light for her to read his expression, but she thought it looked like pain.  
  
"Sorry..." she began. Somehow, that seemed to snap him out of his paralysis. He lunged forward, knocking her onto her back and wedging a leg between hers.  
  
"What, was that?" he demanded.  
  
"Nothing--" she bit out, calculating how much force it would take to throw him across the room.  
  
"Then why are you apologizing?" he replied, running his finger along her collarbone with enough force to drag flesh after it. He didn't stop when he reached the edge of her tank top strap, instead dragging it off her shoulder. He leaned down and gently ran his nose along the same path his finger had just taken.  
  
"I'm not apologizing!" Aeryn snapped as he dropped a kiss right above the tank top strap. "Now get off me!"  
  
His head shot up. He scrambled backwards, and was seated on the edge of the bed-- as far away from her as possible, she noticed-- by the time she had rolled onto her side again.  
  
"I'm sorry," he muttered, face buried in his hands. "I'm really sorry. I'll leave now."  
  
She didn't say anything, just pulled the covers further up around her neck as she turned to watch him leave. When he paused in the doorway and glanced back at her, she nearly gasped. All the life she'd seen in his eyes just a few microts earlier was gone, leaving something oddly more empty than emptiness. He turned away. She felt slightly nauseous. "Crichton..." she tried again.  
  
"Yes." Even from this distance, she could see him stiffen. She slid out of bed.  
  
"Don't go."  
  
He didn't respond. She started across the room towards him. It wasn't until she had come up behind him and raised an arm to place on his back that she realized her tank top was still hanging off her shoulder. She stopped, hand still in the air, and tried to decide whether or not to pull it up.  
  
"You should go back to bed," he said absentmindedly. "No use both of us not getting enough sleep." He started to pull away, but she slid her hand up and cupped his cheek. Something like hope flickered across his face, only to be replaced once again by that curious more than emptiness.  
  
Dren. She could feel him slipping away from her, into what she didn't know. He needed to focus. When the sun rose they'd have to make a break for it, and she didn't know this planet. No one here except John knew her language, and she sure as hezmana wouldn't make it very far if he was in shock. The wayward strap yanked itself back onto her shoulder as she spun him around. "Crichton," she growled, "I am not going back to bed alone. Do you hear me?"  
  
"I shouldn't," he said.  
  
"Yes, you should." She wanted his hope back. She wanted everything back. She couldn't remember wanting anything more. She took a deep breath. This was going to hurt. "Please?"  
  
His eyes widened. That got his attention. She never begged. She leaned forward until her breasts were almost touching him. In her peripheral vision, she could see his hand begin to move. It reached up, pressed itself against her cheek even as he leaned forward to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited.  



End file.
